


mother, make me a bird of prey (so I can rise above this, let it fall away)

by lovebeyondmeasure



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Maria Hill, Blackhill Week 2018, F/F, Female-Centric, Lesbian Maria Hill, Maria Hill Feels, Maria Hill-centric, written for the soulmate prompt but not a soulmate fic per se
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/pseuds/lovebeyondmeasure
Summary: Maria had watched her mother throw herself into relationship after relationship, each time convinced this time he was The One. Capital letters, every time. Each man a disappointment,  another lesson learned, another goddamn disaster. One more frog kissed on the way to Prince Charming.Maria’s mother believed. She believed in Soul Mates, and True Love, and Forever. Maria believed in her clear sight, her quick mind, and her two good hands.When she was recruited for SHIELD, the recruiter gave her a smarmy smile and asked if she anticipated having children someday. Maria leveled her gaze at him, his perfectly groomed facial hair and scrupulously clean fingernails, and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal to ask in a job interview. Also, I’m a lesbian.”





	mother, make me a bird of prey (so I can rise above this, let it fall away)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write soulmate fic. But this one arrived, and said, "I'm not a soulmate fic, but I kind of am, and you're going to write me right this goddamn minute." So.... here.
> 
> Not beta'd, so mistakes are entirely mine. For the full experience, listen to [ Mother by Florence + the Machine](https://youtu.be/unPhGfW-PGw). This fic pulls its title from that song- and then some.

Maria had watched her mother throw herself into relationship after relationship, each time convinced this time he was The One. Capital letters, every time. Each man a disappointment, another lesson learned, another goddamn disaster. One more frog kissed on the way to Prince Charming.

Maria’s mother believed. She believed in Soul Mates, and True Love, and Forever. Maria believed in her clear sight, her quick mind, and her two good hands. 

When she was recruited for SHIELD, the recruiter gave her a smarmy smile and asked if she anticipated having children someday. Maria leveled her gaze at him, his perfectly groomed facial hair and scrupulously clean fingernails, and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal to ask in a job interview. Also, I’m a lesbian.”

She got the job. She never saw him again. 

Maria found that, when given clear direction in her life, she hardly even thought about romance. She chalked this up to the overdose she received as a child, watching Disney princess movies on Saturday mornings with her mother. She focused on her job, her coworkers, and her own self, and occasionally went home with a nice girl from the bar. And if half of them were just experimenting, well. Maria prided herself on making sure they thoroughly enjoyed it, and wasn’t hurt when they rarely called her again.

She never called them first. She didn’t believe in Soul Mates, or True Love, or Forever. She believed in her steady aim, her steadfast convictions, and her two good hands.

So when the Black Widow showed up, a scrap of Russian belligerence and muscle, Maria was sure her interest in “Clint’s new stray” was born from her desire to understand. She worked with Natalia on Fury’s orders, partially because she was the only one who would. She was meant to gauge the Widow’s skills, her willingness to adapt, the limits of their hold on her.

What Maria found was a woman whose mind and tongue were as sharp as her own, whose loyalties were to her own heart and bone, who could become a new person between one breath and the next. And Maria was fascinated.

The next three girls she went home from the bars with were redheads before she noticed. 

Maria was almost certain that Natalia was sleeping with Clint. She took a week off, her first in three years, and disappeared into the Adirondacks, the miles of uncharted New York forests as familiar as her own skin even after the many years. She climbed mountains, staring out at the misty purple horizon, and let the stars soak back into her soul.

Her mother had dragged her camping, over the years, usually after a bad breakup. She’d build a fire, pitch a tent, identify birds by their calls. Maria had brought a book. Her mother had shaken her head, had told her that sometimes, after too long between pavement and fluorescent lights, a person could forget what it meant to be human. Maria, standing beneath a tree as tall as her last safehouse, allowed for the first time that her mother might have been right about something.

When it began raining, Maria stood still among the stillness of the woods, and let it wash over her, soaking her hair, her clothes. She remembered her mother’s hands on her face, her whispered instruction to listen for the rain’s message. She stood barefoot in the moss and let the water flow over her, into her, and listened.

When she returned to civilization, Clint remarked that she seemed well-rested, and Natalia cocked her head in that curious way of hers and told her, satisfied, that she had the wilderness in her eyes. Maria bared her teeth in a grin and was ready when Natalia launched herself at her.

Maria still didn’t believe in Soul Mates, or True Love, or Forever. But she acknowledged that her mother hadn’t been wrong about everything. And every year, she took a week off, and disappeared into the woods.

When Fury found out where she was going, he told her to enjoy her Walden. She rolled her eyes and told him that Thoreau was a bitch whose mother had done his laundry. Fury’s laughter had followed her out of the office and all the way up the highway.

She was sent, a few years later, to Italy, to handle Clint and Natalia- Natasha, now. The extraction went off without a hitch, as expected. Clint left to fly the target home, and Fury instructed Maria to “enjoy some civilization, dammit.” Natasha had laughed and taken her hand, and Maria had felt something that felt like hope.

In the earliest morning hours, wandering the cobbled streets in the golden moonlight, alone, Maria took off her heels and allowed the city to be part of her, too. She sat on the edge of a fountain, its dancing girls shadowed and graceful, the water pouring endlessly into its mossy basin, and Maria hiked up her skirt and let the water wash over her feet.

Looking up at the sky, she wondered what her mother would think of her now. Past thirty, never married, no children, only a career and a self; the stars blinked back sleepily. She would never know. She threw a euro into the rippling water and walked barefoot back to her hotel room, her heels left there by the fountain.

Her mother had loved her. Her mother had also loved a series of men who had run the gamut from decent but impecunious to barely human. Her mother was dead. And all of this was true, had been true for many years; but Maria had rarely taken the time to consider it as a whole. 

On the flight home, Natasha asked her with a sly smile how her night had been. Maria had met her eyes, already seen the bruises nearly tucked beneath the collar of Natasha’s sweater. She told her it was fine and went back to her journal, slowly filling in every detail of the dancing maidens in the fountain from memory.

A year later, Natasha was shot in the abdomen while on a routine extraction. Clint was stuck in Abu Ghraib, so Maria found herself waiting in the recovery room, filling out paperwork.

When Natasha awoke, Maria looked up, and found herself caught in the foggy green of her eyes.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“You’re here,” Natasha said.

“Yes,” Maria said.

Eight months after that, Maria took a week off. Not her usual week. She drove herself and Natasha into the Adirondacks, and brought her up the first of the peaks that she herself had ever climbed.

Seeing the horizon reflected in Natasha’s eyes, Maria knew she’d made the right decision, to share this with her.

“Thank you,” Natasha said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Maria replied.

When it began to rain, Maria unlaced her boots, walking barefoot into the mossy clearing, and tilted her head back, her dark hair growing heavy. And Natasha watched her, and watched her, and watched her.

One night, beneath the sky filled with stars and satellites, Natasha looked over at Maria, and blinked, and leaned forward. Maria closed her eyes and kissed her back.

Maria still didn’t believe in Soul Mates, or True Love, or Forever. But she could believe in her own heart, her own eyes, her two good hands, and Natasha.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to share this fic on tumblr, [it has its own post.](http://lovebeyondmeasure.tumblr.com/post/170126659954/)


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